innocent, and the Judgment Day can alone
determine that--has never been seen since.

CASE XV

THE WHITE LADY OF ROWNAM AVENUE, NEAR
STIRLING

Like most European countries, Scotland claims its share of phantasms
in the form of "White Ladies." According to Mr. Ingram, in his
_Haunted Houses and Family Legends_, the ruins of the mansion of
Woodhouselee are haunted by a woman in white, presumably (though,
personally, I think otherwise) the ghost of Lady Hamilton of
Bothwellhaugh. This unfortunate lady, together with her baby,
was--during the temporary absence of her husband--stripped naked and
turned out of doors on a bitterly cold night, by a favourite of the
Regent Murray. As a result of this inhuman conduct the child died, and
its mother, with the corpse in her arms, was discovered in the morning
raving mad. Another instance of this particular form of apparition is
to be found in Sir Walter Scott's "White Lady of Avenel," and there
are endless others, both in reality and fiction.

Some years ago, when I was putting up at a friend's house in
Edinburgh, I was introduced to a man who had had several experiences
with ghosts, and had, therefore, been especially asked to meet me.
After we had talked together for some time, he related the following
adventure which had befallen him, in his childhood, in Rownam avenue
(the seat of Sir E.C.), near Stirling:--

I was always a lover of nature, he began, and my earliest
reminiscences are associated with solitary rambles through the fields,
dells, and copses surrounding my home. I lived within a stone's-throw
of the property of old Sir E.C., who has long gone to rest--God bless
his soul! And I think it needs blessing, for if there was any truth in
local gossip (and it is said, I think truly, that "There is never any
smoke without fire") he had lived a very queer life. Indeed, he was
held in such universal awe and abhorrence that we used to fly at his
approach, and never spoke of him amongst ourselves saving in such
terms as "Auld dour crab," or "The laird deil."

Rownam Manor House, where he lived, was a fine specimen of
sixteenth-century architecture, and had it been called a castle would
have merited the appellation far more than many of the buildings in
Scotland that bear that name. It was approached by a long avenue of
trees--gigantic elms, oaks, and beeches, that, uniting their branches
overhead in summertime, formed an effectua